Okay, so I’ve been doing these stories about religion lately. Covering the Anglican schism, interviewing Russian Orthodox priests and so forth. Fuck, I even downloaded this Bible program to my computer so I could quote passages correctly. This was my favourite passage from 1 Corinthians:
4 Every man who takes part in prayer, or gives teaching as a prophet, with his head covered, puts shame on his head.
5 But every woman who does so with her head unveiled, puts shame on her head: for it is the same as if her hair was cut off.1 Corinthians 11:4-5
I used that quote against certain Anglicans who are citing scripture to justify their theological objections to homosexuality.
“Are you going to be wearing veils in church?” I ask the church lady. “We’re not Muslim.” she responds” “But the Bible says you have to!” I counter.
“You can’t just take bits and pieces of the Bible and say this is okay and this is not okay,” she responds. “You have to look at it in the bigger context and if you get all the way through the New Testament you’ll understand that Jesus actually corrected people from what they understood in the Old Testament and explained it in a way that changed some things.”
I was not raised in any religion but my mother was raised Anglican, as was her mother and her mother before her. When I was interviewing the Anglican ladies I mentioned this in an effort to find common ground. “Everyone seems to have been raised Anglican or have family who were,” she sighed, telling me how their numbers are dwindling.
I think all this did something to inform my fucked up dreams last night.
In my dream I was visiting my grandmother and she was telling me about her youth and how her parents raised her as a Scientologist. Both her parents were big in Scientology, she told me, and they were buried in full Scientology rites along with my grandfather.
What did that mean? Well, according to my dreams Scientologists are buried beneath the booths at this old BC restaurant chain called “Bino’s”. So, when I’d be sitting there eating my chips, waiting for my milkshake when my mother would say “Well, my father’s buried right beneath us you know.”
By the end of the dream everyone had given up Scientology.
When I woke up I asked my Grandmother if she was ever involved with Scientology and she said, “No, that’s too strange for me.”